Page 2 of Somnium

Cadi easily could have avoided this early morning gauntlet by driving herself to work, but the hospital she worked at was in the heart of downtown, and Fiddler’s Green was the capital city of Sumbria’s southernmost province. Its coastal location made the city the obvious choice for the seat of Poseidon’s regional government, as well as the home of shipping ports that served the entire southwestern region. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that she had a better chance of becoming a god herself than finding reasonable parking during the week.

As soon as the fiberglass doors eased open, she let the tide of passengers carry her onto the train, and quickly darted for one of the few remaining seats. With a surge of victory, she squeezed herself onto the stiff plastic, thwarting the attempts of two other riders in the process. Careful to avoid their bitter stares, she popped in her earbuds and cued up her favorite playlist for the first leg of her journey.

As she settled into her seat, her attention was immediately drawn to the headline splashed across the newspaper clutched in a death grip by the rider across from her.

“Where is Horace? God of Sky Still Missing”

A chill raced across her skin as she skimmed the rest of the page filled with reports of higher crime rates and increased incidents of looting in the northeastern part of the continent. Over the last decade, the gods had been steadily disappearing one by one, and it was only getting worse. Even with the rush of special elections and emergency appointments things were precarious at best. It was no wonder Oneirios had amassed such a loyal following. He had never been one of the great rulers with a claim to a region of his own, but in the silence that followed these disappearances, people clung to the one who remained.

And to the dreams he promised them.

Her body swayed as they careened through the underground tunnels, the car getting more densely packed with each stop. Then the crowd shifted, and a swarm of riders filtered from the train, and the faint scent of smoke and incense drifted in to fill the space. Cadi twisted in her seat to look out to the platform behind her.

They had arrived at Temple Station.

She watched dozens of faithful file into the dim tunnel that would take them to the steps of the temple, with a large sign looming over the entrance to guide their path: “Welcome to the Order.”

Cadi shivered, an involuntary response to the way the air seemed to take on a life of its own on this particular platform. She was no stranger to religion or its followers, having spent her childhood running after her mother through the offices and sanctuaries of the parishes she had overseen in service to the theological side of Poseidon’s rule. Yet, there was something about this group that felt different, though she just couldn’t say exactly what.

The train lurched as it pulled away, and Cadi let out a breath, her body relaxing back into the seat while the Order faded into the darkness of the tunnel.

Cadi tugged open the door to the charting room, releasing the energetic buzz of morning chatter into the hallway, then flopped down into a desk chair and rested her head against the cheap, scratchy fabric. The merciful breath of air conditioning washed over her skin, quickly drying the thin sheen of sweat that had gathered thanks to the humidity of the coastal summer morning.

Her fingers drummed lightly against the surface of her desk as she shifted her mind from her commute to work mode. She jiggled her mouse until the screen flickered to life and with a few practiced clicks, she had everything she needed to start her day: schedule, files, notes.

The sound of lively conversation cut through her focus, drawing her attention to the door where a small group of coworkers filed in with their heads tipped back in laughter as they discussed their plans for the upcoming weekend. Something clenched in Cadi’s chest as she watched them, but she forced herself to shove down the envy and longing that seemed determined to take control of her impulses, tempting her to throw caution to the wind and try joining them.

Instead, she turned back to her computer, choosing to bury herself beneath the familiar comfort of her work. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to them; in her limited interactions with them, they all seemed like lovely people. But over the years, through every move forced on her family as an unfortunate byproduct of her mother’s job, it had only become more difficult for her to let down her walls.

Even in the rare times when she had managed to find the glimmer of something, it never lasted. No one ever stayed, so at some point, she had stopped expecting them to. The pattern was always the same, only the faces changed, and the empty reassurances that followed quickly stopped bringing comfort, slowly beginning to chip away at her instead.

She had learned to find comfort on her own, and her early life as the only child in a borderline nomadic family had made it surprisingly easy for her to fade into the background. It was just safer that way. If she didn’t expect anyone to stick around, there was nothing for them to break. Still, if something came her way—an invitation, a friendship, the possibility of something more—she’d promised herself she would try to make room for it. It just hadn’t.

And she was fine with that. Mostly.

Her eyes flicked to the clock on her screen, and with a panicked gasp she realized that she was already running behind. Scanning her notes, she quickly jotted down a few bits of crucial information before shoving the small scrap of paper into her pocket and rushing out the door.

The next few hours flew by in a blur of walkers, wheelchairs, and dressing aids, and by the time lunch rolled around, Cadi was pretty sure her stomach was about to rebel and start eating itself. She found her work as a rehab therapist extremely rewarding, and nothing beat the feeling of seeing a patient regain abilities they had thought were lost forever, but that didn’t make her job any less physically exhausting. She was starving, and even the mediocre offerings of the hospital cafeteria had begun to sound like a five-star meal. As she walked, a low rumble reverberated from her abdomen, loud enough to raise the eyebrows of a passing tech. She flashed him an uncomfortable smile before picking up her pace to put a good amount of distance between herself and his quiet judgement.

Conversation collided with the clatter of silverware to echo through the brightly lit hallway, and another ravenous growl rumbled from her stomach in response to the savory aroma that hinted of butter and cheese drifting from the cafeteria doorway. Once inside, Cadi headed directly for the option with the shortest line, grabbed a bag of chips and the first premade sandwich she saw, then quickly handed her payment to the cyclops that had somehow managed to wedge his looming form behind the register while she kept an eye peeled for any newly vacated seats.

She let out a breath when she spotted a group of nurses standing to gather their trays, leaving an entire table ripe for the taking. Weaving through the crowd, she quickly navigated the maze of tables and plastic chairs to claim the spot for herself.

The acrid smell of sulfur assaulted Cadi’s nose when she peeled the plastic wrap from her sandwich, and she pulled a face at the realization that in her hunger-fueled rush, she had grabbed egg salad. Her stomach gave another rumble in protest, but ever since an unfortunate incident in middle school, she had sworn off eating eggs she hadn’t prepared herself. This was one self-imposed rule that she was unwilling to break, no matter how hungry she may be. Replacing the plastic and pushing the offensive sandwich as far away as possible, she tore into her bag of chips, swallowing hard past the urge to gag.

The room around her buzzed, all the sounds and voices blending together as she ate, until an excited voice drifted from a nearby table.

“The Rite of Dedication last week was phenomenal.”

Cadi paused her crunching when recognition sparked in her mind. She may not know much about the Order, but there wasn’t a soul in Sumbria who hadn’t heard about its most elite and coveted ritual. Much like Somnium, the Rite was conducted by the Order’s four masked priests, but with the added allure of Oneirios himself overseeing the entire production. Cadi carefully angled her body toward the discussion, ignoring the feeling of guilt that settled in her stomach at the way she was blatantly listening in on a coworker’s lunch conversation.

“I’m telling you, I almost cried,” the delicate voice continued. Through the gap between bodies, Cadi could see Zoe, a water nymph who worked as a therapist on her floor. The petite mythic effortlessly held the attention of everyone at the table, her short blonde curls brushing against the tips of her pointed ears in perfect sync with her movements.

“What was it like?” a small female faun asked.

“Honestly? Life-changing. I’ve been to Somnium before, but this was completely different. With Oneirios there … you can just feel his power. It’s kind of intoxicating.”

Cadi arched her brow, biting back a snort at Zoe’s fanatical recap of what, in her mind, amounted to an overhyped church service. There was no way it was that intense.